


Tabloids

by Myrivalshipkakavege



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Human, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Love Triangle, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-11 03:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16468193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrivalshipkakavege/pseuds/Myrivalshipkakavege
Summary: Being famous isn't always easy.  When gossip magazines turn their focus on Goku Son and Vegeta Ouji, the actors find their celebrity images placed under the magnifying glass.  Mix in a prominent Hollywood agent whose tangled past with the boy-next-door star in question prompts enough gossip for the magazines to sustain their sales for the year, and the tabloids become a greater threat than harmless gossip.Rumors have the power to mold relationships and change lives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been inspired by an Entourage re-watch. Don't ask me where the love triangle plot came in. It just happened, and I had to write it. I might not post the next chapter for quite a while because original writing and nanowrimo, but there WILL be a next one.

Walking down the street this time of year was a blast.  The sun was bright and hot, wind rustled through the palm trees, exotic cars roared past.  Women dressed up like Barbie dolls emerged from shops and boutiques with bags in their arms, sometimes dogs, and sometimes men trailing behind them to  _ carry _ those shiny new possessions and spoiled puppies.  The occasional cameras would flash, but Goku didn’t mind them so much.  Not nearly as much as other celebrities did, whose threats to the paparazzi earned them tabloid front pages.  

 

Goku stayed out of the media spotlight, aside from when his new movies were being promoted.  He was well-liked in this town, and he liked pretty much everyone else. Hurried footsteps followed Goku, and he snorted a laugh. That was  _ no _ paparazzi following him. As he met the gazes of a pair of beautiful women eyeing him from inside a passing car, Goku chomped off the final bit of his orange gourmet popsicle and let the people trailing him catch up.  He’d been enjoying the pop’s refreshing cold flavor since he grabbed one on impulse when Krillin dropped them off down the street from their favorite bistro; he was now a little disappointed to see it gone. 

 

“Sure he’ll sign something if I ask, but are you sure you don’t want  _ my _ autograph, Sweetheart?” Yamcha’s familiar voice accompanied the sound of the quicker, lighter footsteps.  “I’m one of Goku’s best friends since he was just a kid, you know.”

 

Goku turned around, putting on his bright smile he knew all his fans expected to see.  Beside Yamcha’s scarred left eye, shaggy dark hair and apologetic smile, a young woman with a toned body and tons of jewelry stared back at Goku with her green eyes bulging.  The pinkness to her cheeks receded a bit as she stilled, looking like she’d stopped breathing. 

 

Goku reached a hesitant hand toward her, familiar with this reaction, but not enough to know how to handle it.  He’d tried once to calm a fainting fan with his touch, but that only seemed to make matters worse. He didn't know why they acted so crazy.  He wasn’t any different from any other person on this street. He was just...a guy who happened to star in blockbuster movies and look good doing it.  Never having to worry about money was convenient, but he could throw all those extras away. He didn't come to Hollywood for the lifestyle. He just loved to act.

 

Yamcha raised a hand toward Goku, indicating he had this covered, before wrapping his arm over the dazzled fan’s sinewy shoulder.  “Hey, Babe, it’s okay. Breathe.”

 

“G-Goku Son!” She squealed, causing Goku to wince and cup a hand over his nearest, most vulnerable ear.  “OMG, I can’t believe it. You really  _ are _ hotter in person!”

 

Goku felt heat rise to his cheeks creased by his widening smile.  He rubbed the back of his head. “Nah, don’t say that!”

 

She dipped her tiny fingers into the crease between her breasts, her demeanor changing as she peered at Goku from beneath dark hooded lashes.  “I...was hoping for an autograph.”

 

Goku shrugged dismissively while Yamcha, knowing him well, tossed Goku his cell phone.  “I don’t like to write,” Goku explained. “Here, we’ll take a selfie instead.”

 

As he posed with the woman, who trembled as they pressed together, Goku smiled at the hint of perfume he smelled from her.  Her soft long hair tickled his face as her shorter frame leaned against him to fit in the selfie. When Goku extended his arm and snapped the picture, the woman somehow made a whimper sound gleeful.  

 

She pulled away, clapping, as Goku tossed Yamcha’s phone back to him.  “Thank you. Aw!”

 

As she admired the picture, Goku frowned when Yamcha turned away, throwing his arm over the girl’s shoulder again.  “Yamcha!” Goku said. “Are ya leaving us?”

 

Yamcha laughed, casting a smile over his shoulder. “Sorry, Goku.  Looks like I’ll have to take a rain check on lunch.”

 

“Don’t worry, Goku,” Krillin said, arriving at Goku’s side.  “ _ I’m _ with you.  We don’t need that small screen has-been anyway.”

 

Goku laughed.  Krillin’s comment was harsh and loud, obviously intended for Yamcha’s ears.  It was an attempt to lure Yamcha back to them, but Yamcha wasn’t taking the bait.  His hand raised from over the woman’s shoulder, flagging them with his middle finger.  Krillin snickered along with Goku before waving Yamcha off. As they turned back to their destination, Goku licked his lips.  He could already smell the greasy fries, the grilled meats permeating the air. North Planet was the  _ best _ restaurant in LA.  No one could tell Goku otherwise.  As they rounded onto the small set of stone steps leading into North Planet’s outdoor dining patio, Goku’s phone rang.

 

With a frown, he pressed it to his ear.  “Yeah?”

 

“Goku,” Piccolo’s gruff voice responded from the other end, “I landed you the role that made your career, remember?  You were  _ nobody _ before I chose to represent you.”

 

“Really?” Goku asked sardonically, smiling at Krillin’s curious glance as they ascended the steps. “I'm pretty sure I was somebody before I met you, Piccolo.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Piccolo scoffed while Goku waved over the nearest waiter.  “You’ll be a much bigger somebody if you stick with me and take the roles I find for you.   _ Remember _ that.”

 

Piccolo hung up at the same moment the waiter met them with a smile.  Youthful blue eyes lit with recognition as they raked over Goku’s form.  Goku deposited the phone back into his jacket pocket. As the waiter turned and led them to a table, Goku’s eyes traveled down to the man’s pert backside, which hitched with sinuous movements while he walked, looking very appealing under those black tailored slacks.

 

Krillin jabbed him with an elbow.  “Checking out the help, huh? Not so sure I’d do that at my favorite restaurant if I were you.”

 

“Huh?” Goku blinked at Krillin as they fell further behind the waiter. “What do you mean?”

 

“I’m just saying,” Krillin said, folding his arms across his chest, “don’t shit where you eat.”

 

Goku chuckled.  “Shitting wasn’t what I had in mind.”

 

“Will this table be fine, Sirs?” the waiter said as he waved a hand toward a small table beside the railing with a view of the central patio fountain as well as the foot traffic on the sidewalk.

 

Goku scratched his head and looked around.  It was a table for two, which was unusual for them.  It was just him and Krillin now, but he found it hard to believe it would remain this way by the time they finished a meal.

 

“Is it really just the two of us?” Goku said.

 

“You make it sound like I’m a consolation prize,” Krillin said peevishly.  “Raditz isn’t here. Yamcha left. Unless the selfie fangirl ditches him, he’s not coming back.  We’re alone for now...unless Piccolo’s coming to woo you?”

 

The way Krillin suspiciously narrowed his eyes at Goku unnerved him for a second.  He waved it off as he turned a smile and nod on the handsome server, accepting the table.

 

The waiter flashed Goku a smile that said he was interested as Goku took his seat.  “Your server will be right with you.”

 

As Goku watched the waiter walk away, he bit his fist and admired the view for a second time, frustrated that he didn’t hit on the guy, but realizing Krillin was probably right.  Chef Kaio was temperamental. Goku wouldn’t want to give him any reason to turn away Goku’s patronage.

 

“You sure Piccolo won’t come?” Krillin asked as he sat across from Goku.

 

“Nah,” Goku shook his head and laughed.  “He just called to threaten me.”

 

“ _ Threaten _ you?” Krillin laughed derisively.  “He’s heard the rumors about that woman.”

 

Goku shook his head with a smile.  “I’m not switching to Mountain Agency.  Piccolo knows this business. He’s good.”

 

“I know,” Krillin grumbled as a new waiter delivered their waters.  “He’s the best. But he’s also a bastard.”

 

Goku laughed.  “Well, you better get used to dealing with him if you really want to be my manager.”

 

“I do.”  Krillin sighed and straightened the button-front collar of his linen shirt.  “I need to find you a new script  _ pronto _ .  Gotta start you working on your next movie while you’re hot.”

 

“Sounds good.”  Goku waved over a waiter and prepared with a deep breath to deliver the order in his mind.  He knew exactly what he wanted here, the lengthy order due to suck up almost as much of their waiter's time as Goku would take to eat it all.

 

* * *

 

Tabloids.  

 

He was blaming fucking tabloids for Vegeta being refused that role.  It was bullshit. His new agent was apparently on the fast road to termination, just like the last one.

 

“Fucking incompetence,” Vegeta said, sitting in Piccolo’s chaise in the center of his glass-walled, high-rise office. “That’s what this is.”

 

“It is incompetence,” Piccolo said tightly with a saccharine grin.  “But not mine.”

 

“I  _ deserve _ that role,” Vegeta growled, shoving his fingers into the thick paper manuscript.  “It’s your job as my new fucking agent to get it for me.”

 

“Thank you, Vegeta Ouji,” Piccolo said, clasping his ringed fingers over his lacquered green desktop.  “I needed a reminder of what I’m doing here, running this multibillion-dollar agency.”

 

Vegeta scoffed.  This asshole was taking a lot of money out of his paycheck because he was supposed to  _ work _ for him.  Vegeta wasn’t going to beg for his next role.  He wouldn’t even ask. He was in demand. This role would’ve been perfect for him.  And if some dumbass producer refused to take him on because he was featured in one drug scandal in a low grade tabloid magazine, his agent and publicist weren’t doing their jobs.  Vegeta had already fired the last guy for failing in this regard. He expected more from Namek Agency. As far as his publicist, Vegeta would deal with that bitch later.

 

“Kiss the producer's ass for me if you have to,” Vegeta said with a wave of his hand, “let him fuck your wife.  Just get me that part!”

 

“I don’t  _ have _ a wife,” Piccolo said to Vegeta’s back as he turned for the door.  “Vegeta! They already have someone else in mind.”

 

Vegeta halted before turning slowly.  Heat rushed to his face as several movie star faces flashed before him, men he’d have to pay a harsh visit to if they were the stealing  _ his _ part.  He eyed Piccolo’s impassive expression, his eye twitching as he encased his rage in clenched fists.

 

“Repeat that,” Vegeta said through gritted teeth.

 

Piccolo huffed.  “They want Goku Son.”

 

“What?” Vegeta raged.

 

“He’s  _ also _ my client, so I’m trying to talk him into it.  But he has his little  _ sidekick _ reading different scripts for him.  Now, I might be able to work something out with the producer  _ if _ -“

 

Vegeta held up a hand, stopping Piccolo as he massaged the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. “You’re trying to talk him into it?  You’re telling me Kakarot doesn’t  _ want _ the part?”

 

Piccolo’s green eyes flashed with realization before he leaned back in his wingback leather chair with a smile pulling at his lips.  “So you two know each other.”

 

Vegeta snorted.  People didn’t have to be personally acquainted with the great ‘Goku Son’ to know that was just some stupid, made-up stage name.  Kakarot’s biography was all over Wikipedia. Of course, the site  _ had _ fucked up his height, claiming the guy was only 5’9”.  Vegeta would  _ not _ be dwarfed by a man of that average stature.  That bastard was tall. And stupid. And sexy, when he wanted to be.

 

“I’ll see what strings I can pull with the producer,” Piccolo said, tapping away at the iPhone laid on his desk.  “But I can’t promise-“

 

“ _ Fuck _ the producer,” Vegeta said, prompting Piccolo to snap him a bewildered look.  “I don’t want the fucking part.”

 

Piccolo shot to his feet.  “What the fuck are you talking about? Vegeta!”

 

Vegeta reached for the door, earning curious glances from agents and assistants outside the glass walls.

 

“What is your problem?  You’ll just walk away from a part you wanted a second ago, just like  _ that _ ?”  When Vegeta turned the knob, Piccolo sighed.  “What’s your gripe with Son?”

 

Vegeta peered over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing.  “If I ever told anyone, those tabloids you people rely on so heavily would have a field day.”

 

He stormed out of the office, past the groveling appeasements from Piccolo’s young greenhorn assistant, straight to the elevators without speaking a word to anyone.  He ground his teeth along the way, and down the elevator ride. He fucking hated Kakarot. He needed to get high. He needed some mindless, random sex. He needed to be anywhere but here and think of anything but  _ him _ .  Vegeta pulled out his phone and dialed Nappa.  

 

His manager was going to find him the biggest party in town tonight.

* * *

 

Her father started the business.  That didn’t mean Chi-Chi couldn’t run it.  Just because it had been established, making a name and fortune for itself before she came into the picture, didn’t mean Chi-Chi was inadequate to fill her father’s massive shoes.  He was retiring this year, filthy rich with his vineyard and mansion waiting for him in the mountains. All he needed was a successor to run his agency. It was a need that gave Chi-Chi the final push to move across the country.  She’d had other plans to come here anyway, but with the agency front, the situation couldn’t be better. Her son was young enough that he hadn’t made serious friends back East or left any school behind. He’d be starting at the academy later this year, and in the meantime, Chi-Chi was tailoring him for the agency business in case he ever decided to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps.

 

Other agents who’d been working beneath her father for years understandably wanted this position and felt she didn’t deserve it.  Chi-Chi had to meet their animosity head-on. Hollywood could be brutal, especially in this business. She’d be the bitch they all thought she was in order to make this work.  Already, she’d single-handedly acquired a new A-list client. She had a few more clients on her to-acquire list not yet in her grasp, but they’d come around soon enough, just like Bulma Briefs did.

 

Chi-Chi sat at her desk, sipping the frothy cappuccino her assistant had just delivered with the script for the movie role Bulma had requested.  Chi-Chi wasn’t impressed with the part the producer offered. Bulma Briefs had an image to uphold. The coke whore aiding human traffickers with kidnapping children was risky - a little  _ too _ risky.  It wouldn’t be great for her, even  _ if _ she pulled it off.  Chi-Chi couldn’t imagine the sultry starlet vividly portraying such a monster.  And bombing in a movie was not an option at this point in Bulma’s lucrative career.  Or Chi-Chi’s blooming one.

 

_ “Miss King,”  _ her assistant's voice buzzed through the intercom,  _ “Miss Briefs here for her ten o’clock.” _

 

“Wonderful, send her in,” Chi-Chi said as she pressed her com button, “and bring her that latte she ordered at our last meeting.”

 

_ “Right away, Miss King.” _

 

Chi-Chi smiled, flashing her teeth as she prepared to dazzle her best client.  Bulma Briefs was a name that made billions. Chi-Chi wasn’t going to let go of Bulma for anything.  Which meant she had to keep Bulma happy. Her new assistant was doing an excellent job at that. Chi-Chi would have to keep Tien as well.  He was quiet and kept to himself, but was firm with and knew how to handle the more entitled comedians and actors passing through her doors.  He was handsome, but didn’t hit on or flirt with any of the pretty faces. He was almost shy in that regard, which Chi-Chi noticed when she tested him with a flirtatious line.  He had a child, a little boy like she did, so Chi-Chi knew keeping this job was important to him, maybe as important as keeping her clients happy was to her.

 

Chi-Chi’s door burst open, a blinding smile entering her office.  Bulma’s blue eyes turned away, her lithe figure twisting as she waved her hand.  She held a cigarette between her fingers. Chi-Chi frowned at the wisp of gray smoke traveling toward her white ceiling.  

 

“It’s okay, Tien.  I don’t need the latte,” Bulma said before turning to Chi-Chi with a wink.  “Cute assistant.”

 

“Thank you,” Chi-Chi said as she gestured Bulma toward her tufted gray leather sofa and reached for Bulma’s cigarette.  “He’s working out pretty well.”

 

Bulma retracted her cigarette from Chi-Chi’s grasp, knitting her brows.  

 

Chi-Chi held her hand out firmly.  “There’s no smoking in my office.” 

 

She pulled a special cigarette pack from inside her tailored blazer, something she’d planned to give to another client later, but oh well.  She needed to keep good relations now. She handed it to Bulma. Bulma released the cigarette Chi-Chi pried from her grip while the new cigarette pack fell in her palm.  Chi-Chi smirked as she dropped the cigarette and put it out beneath her designer heel while Bulma eyed the package.

 

Bulma raised a brow at Chi-Chi.  “Are these...what I  _ think _ they are?”

 

Chi-Chi sent Bulma a wink.  “Sh, don’t tell anyone. It wasn’t easy to get my hands on those, so I wouldn’t want my other clients asking.”

 

Bulma deposited the pack in her purse with a bright smile.  “An agent who delivers grade A weed. Already I’m loving this switch.  What else you got for me, Cheech? A role, perhaps?”

 

“Maybe not the one you’re thinking of.” Chi-Chi pursed her lips, crossed her arms, and sat on her desk.  “Yamamuro’s a bust. That movie’s no good for you.”

 

Bulma’s trim blue brows narrowed. “But-“

 

“I found you a role much more compelling.  Universal’s making it. It’s bound to be a hit.”

 

“And who would I play?”

 

“A woman going out on her own, hunting through dangerous mountain territory to collect items known to possess magical powers and grant her any wish.”

 

Bulma rubbed her chin.  “So no romance?”

 

“Would that disappoint you?  I know you’re known for those steamy scenes, but I was hoping you’d branch out and expand your horizons, in spite of your obvious talent,” Chi-Chi said as she kicked off the desk, strolled across her office, and sat beside Bulma.  “You were incredible on screen with Goku Son in your last performance, after all.”

 

“Weren’t we?” Bulma said with a smirk.

 

“Your chemistry was off the charts,” Chi-Chi said, her hands growing clammy as she pressed them between her thighs. “Was any of that real?”

 

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” Bulma said with a playful smile, her glossy pink lips taunting Chi-Chi.

 

“Right,” Chi-Chi said with a sharp nod, trying to hide her disappointment.  “Of course, I wouldn’t expect you to-“

 

“Just kidding!” Bulma laughed.  “The sexual tension was unbearable by the end of filming.  We only fucked after the premiere, though. Goku’s a really great guy.”

 

Chi-Chi hid the frown she hoped Bulma didn’t see by forging a smile.  “I hear he’s a great  _ client _ , too.  My efforts seem to be proving that.  His people won’t return my calls.”

 

“Really?” Bulma blinked, blue eyes alight with curiosity.  “You want to represent Goku? At this agency?”

 

“Why not?” Chi-Chi snapped defensively, unable to keep her temper in check.

 

“Goku already has an agent.”

 

“So did you,” Chi-Chi said, pulling her tablet from her satin blazer and scrolling through her calendar.  “Why should that stop  _ him _ ?”

 

Bulma laughed, easing back into the soft cushion of Chi-Chi’s furniture before rising gracefully and turning her view out onto the bustling city below.  “Goku’s a lot more bent on loyalty than I am. And if you want to fight Piccolo Green for his star clients, I suggest you be careful.”

 

“You’re right, Bulma,” Chi-Chi said, standing and leaning into Bulma’s ear so she’d hear Chi-Chi’s whisper over her shoulder.  “I’d better back off. It hardly makes a good impression, going after an unavailable client too hard and fast. Goku must be happy with his current representation.  I’m sure Piccolo Green has comparable drug connections, knows about all the best roles the moment they’re available,  _ and _ buys his clients and all their friends front row seats to all their favorite shows.  He must be pretty to look at, too.”

 

Bulma met Chi-Chi’s eyes skeptically.  “I don’t know if Goku considers him  _ pretty _ .  But have you  _ seen _ Piccolo Green?  He’s not bad.”

 

“I’m sure he’s not.”  Chi-Chi grinned. “But he’s not me.  Feel free to share those joints with Goku,” Chi-Chi said, indicating the pack in Bulma’s hand.  “Let him see what he’s missing out on.”

 

Bulma eyed Chi-Chi, her eyes lighting with amusement, her lips pulling with a devilish smile.  “Ooh, you’re bad. We’re going to work very well together.”

  
Chi-Chi smiled, hefting the heavy proposed script from her desk and handing it to Bulma.  “Here. Give it a read. Call me when you’ve decided what you think. I’ll keep my eyes open for other options in the meantime.  Maybe you’d even like to work with Goku Son again?”

 

Bulma sucked air through her teeth, her eyes gleaming.  “You know who I’d really like to work with that I’ve never worked with before?  Vegeta Ouji. He looks like such a hot badass.”

 

Chi-Chi shrugged.  “I haven’t heard good things about him, but I’ll see what I can work out.”

 

Bulma smirked, hugging the manuscript to her chest.  “Can’t trust the tabloids, Cheech. I’m sure he’s not as bad as they make him out to be.”

 

Chi-Chi smiled, watching Bulma leave her office, the door swinging closed behind her.  In solitude with air from her vents whirring overhead, Chi-Chi closed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest.  Her day was almost over. She’d be heading home to send her nanny away and ask her son about his day, then repeat it all again tomorrow.  She planned to sign more clients. Most of all, she planned on seeing Goku Son in her office any day now.

 

She’d waited for this meeting long enough.


	2. Hollywood Night

Goku tore his shirt off, grimacing as the tags caught in his hair.  It was too scratchy and uncomfortable. He wasn’t buying it. Gladly, he snatched his own shirt from the air after Yamcha tossed it back to him.  As he pulled the soft cotton over his abdomen, he heard Krillin laugh. The sales clerk giggled along with him. Goku pulled his shirt down from his eyes and blinked at them.  They were both, to his surprise, staring at him. So was Yamcha. The store clerk’s pretty face was coated in an allover blush.

 

Goku frowned.  “What?”

 

Krillin slapped his back.  “They  _ have _ dressing rooms here, you know.”

 

“What’s Goku need dressing rooms for?” Yamcha said, smirking over his shoulder at Goku as he perused a rack of t-shirts.  “He keeps changing out in the open like this, I’m sure the store will  _ give _ him whatever clothes he wants.”  He turned to the clerk. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

 

Goku turned his eyes on the clerk to find her smiling at him, her eyes raking over his form as if she could see through the shirt he was now wearing.  She was pretty, but something about her just wasn’t catching his eye. She was a little...plain for LA standards.

 

Her smile spread as she said to him, “Would you like to see our newest jacket?  We just got it in today. It’s a letterman. Colorful. Would look fantastic with that boyish, charming smile of yours.”

 

Goku grinned.  “Then I’ll take it.”

 

“You don’t even want to try it on?” Krillin asked.  “A  _ jacket _ is normal to try on in the middle of the store, you know.”

 

“What's the point?” Goku said, casting the clerk a smile.  “I trust her judgement.”

 

“I do too,” Yamcha said, meeting the woman’s eyes with flirtatiously batted lashes.  “What do you say we get a cup of coffee later?”

 

The clerk smiled.  “Or how about we just fuck?”

 

Yamcha beamed while Goku laughed with Krillin.  “A woman who cuts to the chase. I love it,” Yamcha said.

 

“Hey, guys!”

 

The voice pulled Goku’s attention to the dressing rooms, where Raditz stepped out wearing a new t-shirt and leather pants.  His older brother looked monstrous next to the curtained stalls, with his long black hair cascading down his back and his broad shoulders nearly matching the width of the stalls.  Goku cocked his head, noticing Raditz’s thighs were nearly bursting out of the pants.

 

“What do you think?” Raditz said, spreading his arms. “Should I buy them?”

 

“Uh…” Krillin said, scratching his scalp, “the  _ shirt’s _ good.”

 

Raditz pouted before looking to Goku.  “You like the pants, don’t you, little brother?”

 

“If you want them,” Goku said with a laugh, “go ahead and get them.”

 

Raditz beamed, sauntering toward them as if he didn’t notice the faces Yamcha and Krillin were making at his legs as he walked.  He threw an arm over Goku’s shoulder before turning his eyes on the sales clerk and licking his lips.

 

“Hey, Hottie,” Raditz said.  “Want to come to a party Princess Snake is throwing tonight?”

 

The clerk’s eyes lit.  “The rock band? Yes!”

 

“Hey,” Yamcha said, stepping between Raditz and the woman.  “I’m taking her. I already asked her.” He looked at the dubious frown on the girl’s face and winked.  “I’ll pick you up at your place before we leave for the party, of course.”

 

“Guys,” Krillin said before the others could argue, “we can’t keep inviting all these people to every party Goku’s invited to.”

 

“We could use the extra people for this one, Krillin,” Goku said, turning his eyes on the appealing Chinese dragon image printed on a cotton tee near the registers.  “I think Snake expects me to fuck her again. I don’t think I’m really into her.”

 

“Well if  _ you’re _ not,” Raditz said, “can I?  That chick’s got one hell of an a-“

 

“Goku!”

 

Goku turned, surprised by the familiar voice and tone of familiarity.  Bulma’s pretty smile came into view, her blue hair framing her face in ringlets falling from a casual updo.  She threw herself into Goku’s arms, her lips planting warmly against his cheek.

 

“Bulma,” Goku said with a breath of surprise.  “I didn’t know you shopped here.” It  _ was _ a men’s store, after all.

 

“I was in the area waiting for my friend to finish her highlights, so I figured I’d browse, maybe find something my father could use for Christmas,” Bulma said, sounding chipper as usual.  She tilted her head past Goku. “Hi, guys.”

 

“Hi, Bulma,” his friends said in unison.

 

“Did I hear Krillin say something about a party?”

 

“Y-yeah!” Krillin said, nodding at Bulma fervently.  “Princess Snake’s. You going?”

 

Raditz smacked Krillin in the chest, making him grunt.  “I thought we needed to stop inviting people.”

 

“Yeah,” Yamcha said, “but Bulma isn’t  _ people _ .  She’s Bulma Briefs.”

 

Bulma laughed.  “I had a date lined up, but…” she peered at Goku, a smile crawling across her lips, “if you guys are going, why not?”

 

“Yes!” Yamcha whooped, clenching his fist.

 

Goku raised a brow at Yamcha while Bulma’s smile turned sly.  “I’ve got some great shit to share with you, Goku. I’ll bring some to the party.”

 

Krillin raised his brows.  “You mean…?”

 

Bulma rolled her eyes, her lashes fluttering.  “ _ Amazing _ stuff.”

 

Raditz scoffed.  “Can’t be that amazing.   _ I’ve _ got all the best connections around here.”

 

“I’m telling you,” Bulma said, her brows narrowing as her eyes gleamed like sapphires.  “This stuff is like nothing you’ve ever had before. My new agent is incredible.”

 

“Your  _ agent _ got it for you?” Krillin asked.

 

Bulma nodded and hummed.  “Oh, yeah. And she specifically asked me to share it with you, Goku, so you’ll see what you’re missing out on.”

 

“Oh.” Krillin’s smile fell.  “ _ That _ agent.”

 

“What agent?” Yamcha said.

 

“The new one from Mountain Agency who’s been making Piccolo sweat with all her efforts to steal Goku!” Krillin said.

 

Raditz laughed.  “I say if she’s hot, and the shit’s that good, it makes her the ideal agent.  You should meet her, Kak.”

 

Krillin scoffed.  “The ideal agent gets Goku ideal  _ roles _ , numb nuts.”

 

Raditz punched Krillin’s shoulder, making him grimace.  “Don’t call me numb nuts.”

 

“I at least wanna try this great stuff of hers,” Goku said, feeling too much excitement about Bulma’s promises to be annoyed by his friends’ bickering.  “So we’ll see you at the party?”

 

“Sure thing,” Bulma said with a wink.  Her eyes flitted across their faces, holding on Yamcha before she turned.  “Bye, guys.”

 

As she walked away, Krillin swatted at Yamcha’s shoulder.  “You see that? I think she likes you.”

 

“Bulma Briefs?” Yamcha blinked, frowning dubiously.  “She’s one of the top women on my list.  _ Goku _ was lucky to get her.  I don’t know if I can-“

 

“Sure you can, Yamcha,” Goku said, a smirk pulling at his lips.  “She likes you. And believe me, you won’t be disappointed.”

 

Yamcha bit his lip, sucking in a ragged breath.  “Damn.”

 

Raditz laughed.  “Don’t hold your breath.  A-list sexy women don’t go for actors who haven’t landed a new TV series in years.”

 

“Says the free loader living off his younger brother’s riches, doing  _ nothing _ ,” Yamcha said.

 

“I resent that,” Raditz said, pointing a firm finger in Yamcha’s face as Krillin took Goku’s items and headed for the registers.  “I do lots of shit.”

 

Goku smiled and threw his arm over his big brother’s shoulder.  “Right. He’s our drug and merchandise man.”

 

“Unless Miss Hot Agent takes over that position,” Yamcha muttered.

 

Goku laughed and rubbed his hands together.  “Guess we’ll see tonight.”

 

Goku couldn’t wait to get high with friends, have a little fun, and maybe do something crazy.  Parties were never a disappointment around here, and at a rock star like Princess Snake’s house, the party was bound to be incredible.

* * *

Bass beats resonated from the expansive, lighted mansion.  As Vegeta stepped out of his car, leaving it with some valet to park, he let his eyes wander the entrance crawling with beautiful people carrying drinks, strutting up the stairs, and laughing with each other.

 

“I hear they’ve got coke in the basement,” Nappa said at his side.

 

“Then let’s go there.”

 

“You sure you don’t want to mingle? Or!” Nappa cringed at the glare he received from Vegeta, knowing his stupid mistake.  “I mean, have a drink first?”

 

“No,” Vegeta drawled, “I’m not here to mingle.  The only person I’ll be mingling with at this party is the one who ends up in my bed.”

 

“And me,” Nappa said with a twitch of a smile, a tiny note of teasing in his voice.

 

Vegeta scoffed and tore his eyes from Nappa to ascend the entrance stairs.  He had to get  _ into _ Snake’s house before he could reach the basement.  He grimaced, knowing in the course of finding the damn place, he’d be approached by needy people recognizing his face.  Maybe a party wasn’t the best idea. Sure, sometimes people served a purpose. There was fucking, for one thing. They also offered industry connections to further Vegeta’s career, as well as neverending praise to boost his ego.  Tonight though, he wasn’t in the mood for any of that. He might’ve been better off remaining home with an 8 ball and no one but Nappa to annoy him. He couldn’t stop thinking of that fucking producer giving that role to fucking Kakarot.

 

“Hi,” a woman drawled huskily as they passed her on the stairs, her hand reaching for Vegeta’s shoulder.  Vegeta smacked her away. “Hey!” she said.

 

“Coming through,” Nappa said with a deep laugh, parting the way through the crowd formed around the doorway.

 

Vegeta smiled to himself and followed in Nappa’s cleared path.  Sometimes Nappa took a little time to catch on, but when he did, he was very dependable.  It was probably why Vegeta let him mooch off of Vegeta’s wealth, living in the mansion Vegeta was provided by his latest studio job, buying any stupid material possession he wanted.  Vegeta would never admit it out loud, because the big oaf would probably get sentimental on him, but Nappa was like a big, much older brother to him.

 

“Hey, that’s Vegeta Ouji,” was whispered from somewhere in their wake.

 

Vegeta rolled his eyes.  That kind of attention used to be exhilarating, but now he could only scoff at it.  Every celebrity he ever met earned the same reception at every party. There was nothing unique or special about it in his eyes, though everyone he met treated it that way.  Their worship used to be his drug. Now, his only drug was  _ drugs _ .  Vegeta’s temple throbbed as he roamed through the roaring corridors in search of basement access, Nappa remaining by his side.  His fingers began to twitch as he realized he was getting closer to his fix. When Vegeta made a swift turn, he was met by a dead end.  He growled at the abstract oil canvas facing him, denying him access to the basement.

 

“Nappa,” he growled.  “Where the fuck is this basement?”

 

“This way, Vegeta!” Nappa said, pointing at a door Vegeta had passed when he wrote it off as a bedroom.

 

Vegeta shook his head, sighing as he followed Nappa through the open door, down the hidden staircase to the sounds of laughter coming from probably the happiest people at this party.

 

* * *

 

After passing the surge of women calling his name and then getting a drink in his hand, Goku had to greet his host.  The guys all followed, remaining close as they usually did at the beginning of parties, but he knew soon they’d all be going their separate ways.  The guys wanted to get some pussy. Goku just wanted to find Bulma and try that excellent weed of hers. He took a sip for courage, knowing Snake was going to come on strong, like always.  She was gorgeous and incredibly sexy, but she was also into some kinky shit that Goku was in no mood for. Besides, lately, he’d had the hot ass of that waiter stuck in his mind, the regret that he’d never taken action eating away at him.  He didn’t have women on his mind today, which was a shame, seeing that there were so many here willing to throw themselves at him.

 

Raditz’s heavy hands landed on Goku’s shoulders. “Let me approach Snake first.  I’ll do  _ all _ the talking.”

 

Goku raised a brow.  “You will?”

 

“Yeah, and once I turn on the charm, she won’t even think about coming onto you.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Goku said, “if you can pull it off.”

 

“Is that a challenge, Kakarot?”

 

Goku sent a glare over his shoulder.  “I told you not to call me that in-“

 

“In public places, I know.”  Raditz slapped Goku’s back, making him lurch forward and spill some of his drink.

 

“Goku Son! Boys!” 

 

The cheerful greeting was yelled loud enough to be heard over the bass thrumming through the mansion.  Goku turned, licking the liquor off the rim of his drink, catching Snake’s sultry eye at just the wrong moment.  Her eyes blazed and fixated on his tongue, which he promptly withdrew into his mouth.

 

“Well, hello,” she said huskily.  “I’m glad you came.”

 

Raditz stepped in front of Goku, thankfully, reaching for Snake’s manicured hand.  “And hopefully by the end of this party, we’ll all be cumming later. Maybe even you with  _ me _ , Sweetheart.”

 

Snake laughed.  It was a trill, confident sound.  Her red, wild hair framed her face like flames, making her resemble something like the devil.  If she had a tongue like a snake, rather than just a tattoo of the reptile on her back, Goku would believe she really was some sort of demon.  The woman was no one to play around with. He almost felt like he should warn Raditz to keep his distance. But he knew Raditz would never listen to him when it came to beautiful women.

 

“Well, Raditz,” Snake said, running her hand down his forearm, “we’ll see.”  Her eyes skimmed past the top of Raditz’s shoulder, meeting Goku’s gaze. “I  _ was _ hoping to hold out for someone else tonight.”

 

“Hey, guys,” Krillin said while Goku gulped.  When Goku looked at Krillin, he was surprised to see his friend looking shaken, his gaze fixed in the direction of the enormous glass doors leading to Snake’s pool.  “I see someone I know. I’m gonna go talk to her.”

 

Before anyone could stop him, Krillin was off.  His determined stride and nervous grimace could only mean one thing.  Goku looked out on the patio with a gasp, and there she was. Maron.

 

“Aw, man,” Yamcha said.  “When’s he ever gonna get over that bitch?”

 

“A little hard to do that when she’s a perfect ten,” Raditz said with a snort, “and Krillin has to be a five, tops.”

 

Goku drew his lips into a thin line and shook his head.  Maron wasn’t a perfect anything. Krillin had been ready to marry that girl when she slept with Yamcha.  Yamcha and Krillin worked things out between them (Yamcha didn’t realize Krillin was that serious about the girl), but Maron was unapologetic.  The model was too blasé about their relationship. She took Krillin, a great guy who looked for the best in people, for granted. 

 

“Nothing we can do about it, I guess,” Yamcha said with a scowl before turning to Goku.  “Want to find Bulma?”

 

“That’s exactly what I want,” Goku said with a grin, imagining the great high he’d experience soon.

 

“Bulma?” Snake said.  “Bulma Briefs is here?”

 

“Yeah,” Goku said, “I invited her.”

 

Snake fluttered her lashes, her frowning lips pulling into a smile.  “Wonderful!”

 

“Nice to see ya, Snake,” Goku said with a wave and turn.  “Have fun, Raditz.”

 

He hurried down the hall with Yamcha.  Snake called after them, but he ignored it, pretending he didn’t hear.  He wanted to smoke some quality pot with his friends and  _ maybe _ get laid, once he was in the mood.  None of that involved Snake.

 

“Oh, shit,” Yamcha said, tugging Goku’s arm down a different corridor and ducking his head. “ _ He’s _ here.”

 

“Who?”

 

“That tabloid asshole,” Yamcha said through clenched teeth while they hurried past groups of people in search of blue hair.  “The one who exposed your involvement in your grandfather’s death. Zarbon.”

 

“Oh,” Goku said, his tone darkening at the memory of that horrible article and all the fallout that came with it.

 

His grandfather hadn’t tried to rob vagrants out in the woods, as Zarbon claimed in his article.  Goku certainly hadn’t aided him, using himself as child bait to lure them to his grandfather. They’d been minding their own business, the three of them.  Camping. Goku left Raditz and Grandpa asleep in the tent when he left to take a piss. Some imagined danger in the trees had scared him, causing him to veer off further from his usual spot, where he found a couple of homeless men with knives.  If his grandfather hadn’t heard his scream,  _ he _ might’ve been the one who died that night.  To this day, Goku wasn’t sure he agreed with the outcome.

 

“We should have Snake kick him out of here,” Yamcha said.

 

“No,” Goku said as his eyes lit on the blue hair he was looking for, Bulma conversing to an enrapt audience in Snake’s kitchen.  “I’m not going to see her again for the night. We’ll just stay away from that scumbag. Someone else will probably call him out.”

 

“Goku!” Bulma said, waving and pushing her way through the people with their backs to Yamcha and Goku.  “Yamcha, hi!”

 

She kissed them both on the cheeks, leaving a faint blush on Yamcha’s cheeks when she pulled away.  Goku smiled when he saw the way Bulma smiled to herself in self-satisfaction. She knew exactly what she was doing.  She had Yamcha wrapped around her finger already.

 

“You got the stuff?” Goku said, his eyes tracing Bulma’s hands and purse on her shoulder for signs of it.

 

Bulma slapped his arm.  “Say hello first, Dummy!”

 

“Hello.  Got the stuff?”

 

Bulma laughed, nodding down another hallway.  “Come on, let’s go. I want to do this somewhere I know others won’t ask me for it.  Can’t use up  _ all _ my supply tonight.”

 

Goku raised a brow at her as they walked.  “It’s that good, huh?”

 

“Just you wait.”

 

Yamcha rubbed his hands together.  “This is going to be great. Krillin and Raditz don’t know what they’re missing.”

 

They swept into a quiet bedroom, closed the door, sat on the carpeted floor, and lit up the joints assembled in a cigarette pack Bulma removed from her purse.  The sweet smoke filled Goku’s nostrils and burned his lungs. He smiled as he blew out what he’d been holding. Already, euphoria was washing over him. As Bulma rolled her eyes back in her head and waved her joint in her fingers almost artistically through the air, Yamcha coughed, the smoke from his lungs coming out in clouds.

 

“Slow down, Yamcha,” Bulma said, “you gotta make it last.”

 

Goku laughed.  He felt giddy. He felt like a kid again when he did this stuff, and he loved it.  Tonight, he felt it even more. This immediately wiped away the sour mood that had come over him with recalling that shitty article.  His grandpa loved him. Goku knew he’d gladly die for him again if he had to. There was no point being upset with the past. His grandpa would want him to enjoy his current success - and this high.

 

Bulma wheezed a laugh, her blue eyes dilating as she looked at Goku, leaning her back against the bed.  “This really is great shit, isn’t it? I think she said it was all organic or something.”

 

Goku nodded fervently before taking another drag from the burning joint pinched between his fingers.  “It is. She’s good.”

 

“She is.  And she helped me avoid a part that could’ve really screwed my career, and might be getting me another starring role with some adventure in it.”

 

“Adventure?” Goku said, eyeing the orange glow and smoke curling from his joint.  “Sounds fun.”

 

“You should see if there’s a part in it for you, Goku,” Bulma said.  “She mentioned she should be able to get me a part with you again.”

 

“Bulma,” Yamcha said, “Piccolo’s been Goku’s agent since his first commercial.  The guy practically  _ built _ Goku’s career and has the best reputation in this business.  Goku would never leave him.”

 

Goku tilted his head as he listened to Bulma spout more praise for her new agent.  Everything she said sounded promising, and maybe it was the high affecting his judgement, but Goku was intrigued.  A meeting couldn’t hurt. That wouldn’t be betraying Piccolo. He just wanted to know what this woman had to offer.  At the very least, she could share some more of this supply with him for taking the trouble to see her.

 

“I’ll go,” Goku said.

 

“What?” Yamcha said.

 

“Set up a meeting,” Goku told Bulma, before looking to Yamcha.  “I just want to see what she has to say.”

 

Yamcha frowned.  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Goku.  Krillin isn’t going to like this.”

 

“Neither will Piccolo,” Goku said with a laugh, too relaxed to care about consequences.

 

“I’m warning you, Goku,” Bulma said, “she’s hot.  Her looks may sway you.”

 

“I would never fuck my agent, Bulma.”

 

“You’re right,” Bulma said, “not a good idea.  Now.” She grinned at Yamcha, her blue eyes turning predatory.  “Fucking a fellow actor who’s a very close friend? I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

 

Yamcha’s lips spread into a smile that reached his ears.  “Nothing wrong with that at all.”

 

Goku stood, swaying with the quickness with which he got to his feet.  He could see where this was leading. They were already in a bedroom. The stage was set, aside from him being in the way, a third wheel.  Bulma eyed him, and for a moment Goku thought she might request a threesome. Sex between them had been amazing, but Goku knew Yamcha might want something more serious with Bulma.  Besides, Yamcha would be uncomfortable. He wasn’t into guys at all and he knew Goku was. Even  _ sharing _ a woman would be awkward for Yamcha.  The thoughts of it made Goku shiver. He hadn’t had the desire to fuck someone tonight, but now he really did.  Just not these two.

 

He put out his joint on the dresser and smiled at Bulma.  “Thanks for the weed. Can you set up that meeting for me with your agent?”

 

“Sure,” Bulma said, “She’ll be thrilled.  I’ll text Krillin the details for you.”

 

Goku’s smile spread as he eyed Bulma and Yamcha.  “You two have fun.”

 

“Thanks, Man,” Yamcha said wholeheartedly.

 

Goku stepped over him, reaching for the door.  By the time he had it shut, he could already hear the wet sounds of their lips joining.  He turned fast, shooting down the hall as he began to wonder what this hard ass of an agent was like who’d gone to such extents to get him in her office.  He didn’t look up, and before he knew it, was colliding with something in the hall moving with equal speed in the opposite direction. He grunted and looked up to see the blazing dark eyes of Vegeta Ouji.  Even though Vegeta’s eyes were full of fury, they were an appealing sight. Everything about Vegeta looked appealing, especially in Goku’s current frame of mind. His lips looked plump and delicious. His black hair swept up like flames looked soft and touchable.  Goku wanted to touch his twitching brow and calm him. 

 

“What the fuck?  Kakarot!” Vegeta snarled.

 

Vegeta, hi,” Goku said, grinning.

 

“Do you have to attend  _ every _ party I go to?”

 

Goku rubbed his head, surprised Vegeta should expect  _ Goku _ to be the one not to be here.  “ _ You’re _ friends with Princess Snake?”

 

“Never mind,” Vegeta groaned, shoving Goku away.  “Just get out of my way.”

 

Goku’s back hit the wall before he looked after Vegeta’s retreating backside, surprised at the unwarranted fury.  The last he knew, he and Vegeta had left things on good terms.

 

“Was that Vegeta Ouji?”

 

Krillin’s familiar voice brought a smile to Goku’s face.  He turned to his friend, nodding.

 

“What’s his problem?” Krillin narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.  “Just being his usual, asshole self?”

 

“I don’t know,” Goku said with a smile.  “Maybe he’s just having a bad night.”

 

“Seems like he’s got a problem with  _ you _ ,” Krillin said, scratching his head.

 

Goku blinked, recalling the reason Krillin had separated from him in the first place.  “What happened with Maron?”

 

Krillin scoffed.  “She’s here with someone.  Some underwear model. I don’t know why I even said hi.”

 

Goku clapped Krillin’s back.  “Ah, don’t worry, Krillin. The right girl will come around.”

 

“I thought  _ Maron _ was the right girl for me.”

 

“When Yamcha and Bulma come out, you should try some of Bulma’s weed.  That’ll cheer you up. It’s amazing.”

 

“When they come…” Krillin’s furrowed brows raised, his eyes lighting with realization.  “Really? Yamcha did it?”

 

Goku nodded and hummed, his eyes trailing after Vegeta’s wake.  He couldn’t understand Vegeta’s hostility. Vegeta was nice to him the last time they met.  Maybe it was only because he wanted to get in Goku’s pants then. He wouldn’t have needed an act, though.  Goku was just as star struck by the infamous Hollywood bad boy as most people were by  _ him _ .  He would have jumped into Vegeta’s bed even with him acting as mean as he was now.  As a matter of fact, that wasn’t a bad idea.

 

“The weed from Bulma’s feisty agent is good, huh?” Krillin said dubiously.  “I don’t know if I can use it without feeling like I’m betraying Piccolo.”

 

“I already used it,” Goku said with a shrug, “what’s the big deal?  Besides, Bulma’s setting up a meeting for me with that agent. Watch for her text, okay?  I just want to see what she has to say.”

 

“Goku!” Krillin winced.  “If Piccolo catches wind of this, he’ll have a fit!  And Piccolo catches wind of everything that goes on in this town eventually.”

 

“And I know you, as my manager and best friend, will handle it for me,” Goku said with a smile, turning his eyes back to Vegeta.  “I’ve gotta go...do something.”

 

As Goku turned to leave, Krillin called from behind him, “You’re not talking to Vegeta Ouji again, are you?  Goku!”

 

Goku ignored the frustration in Krillin’s voice as he kept walking.  He trailed after the direction in which he’d seen Vegeta wander, then meandered down the hall he’d turned on blindly.  He hoped when he found Vegeta, he wouldn’t have that jerk Nappa with him. That guy hated Goku for some reason, even  _ before _ Goku fucked Vegeta at that after party.  When Goku saw dark pointy hair disappear around the next corner, heading into a seemingly vacant hall, Goku followed with a sharp intake of breath.  His heart pounded with growing excitement. It had been so long since he’d been with a man. Vegeta might’ve been the last one. It had been several months.  Goku didn’t realize until now just how long it had been since he’d seen Vegeta.

 

“Vegeta!” Goku called when he spotted him.

 

Vegeta turned, the doorway at his side half-ajar, the hall behind him shrouded in darkness.  This did not look like a part of the house Snake wanted guests exploring. It looked private, though.  It was perfect.

 

“What the fuck do  _ you _ want?” Vegeta asked.

 

“You,” Goku said, easing closer as if Vegeta was a wild animal he couldn’t approach too quickly.

 

Vegeta gasped, his eyes going wide before he steeled his gaze.  “Didn’t seem that way when you never fucking called me. You’re telling me you  _ want _ me now?”

 

Goku balked, surprised.  “I thought that was just a casual hook up.”

 

Vegeta sputtered.  “Of  _ course _ it was!  Don’t flatter yourself.”

 

“Well good,” Goku said, easing closer until he could nearly feel the heat from Vegeta’s body, “so you’re not angry at me.”

 

Vegeta  _ looked _ angry, his brow twitching as he said, “what could I possibly have to be angry about?”

 

“I don’t know,” Goku said, genuinely confused, “but I get the feeling you’re mad about something.”

 

“Well aren’t you a fucking genius,” Vegeta drawled.  “How about you stealing my roles?”

 

“What roles?”

 

Vegeta waved a dismissive hand and began to turn.  “Fuck this.”

 

“Vegeta,” Goku said, grabbing Vegeta’s wrist and stopping him.  “I’m horny, and I’m high, and you’re hot. There’s an empty bedroom right there,” Goku said, nodding to the door beside them.  “You want to?”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“Fine, hate me then,” Goku said with a shrug.

 

Vegeta clenched his jaw, his eyes going to the door.  Goku licked his lips, anticipating Vegeta’s lips on his.  He gestured to his hard on pressed against his jeans, evidence of how much he wanted this, and what Vegeta might be missing out on.  Vegeta’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his eyes settled on Goku’s lips. He let out a loud exhale that brushed across Goku’s face.

 

“Fine,” Vegeta said, pressing the door open, “but I’m on top.”

 

Goku felt blood rush to his head, his cock stirring to the point it felt it was due to bust his zipper.  His breathing was so erratic as he entered through the door that he had to hold onto Vegeta to keep from stumbling inside.  All the memories of the last time they came together, very similar to this, played through his mind and built his excitement.  He recalled amazing sensations. But this would be different. He’d never been bottom before. The nervous excitement he felt at the promise was more thrilling than the first time with Vegeta.

When he left the room, sated and lethargic, still tingling, with Vegeta at his side, Goku was greeted by a flash.  He blinked rapidly, his vision revealing the man with a camera on them. Zarbon pulled his eyes from the camera lens, his teeth shining as he exposed them in a devilish smile.  His green braided hair was draped over his shoulder, his denim jacket, cargo pants and concert t-shirt nearly allowing him to blend into the crowd, though to every celebrity here who’d ever been featured in a tabloid, he was the enemy.  Goku felt Vegeta go rigid at his side. Goku opened his mouth, but found himself speechless.

 

“If this doesn’t make front page,” Zarbon said, “I’ll be damned.  Frieza’s going to give me a hefty bonus for this one. Talk about a sex scandal.”

 

Vegeta bared his teeth, barely containing a growl.  “You have nothing! For all you know, we could’ve been exchanging  _ trading cards _ in there.”

 

“Getting high,” Goku said under his breath.  “That’s the more believable story.”

 

“Will you shut up?” Vegeta hissed.  “What do we need to do for you to destroy that picture?”

 

Zarbon laughed.  “I’m not squashing the story.  Not even if you were willing to give me a front row seat to what just happened in there.” He gestured to the bedroom.

 

“His camera,” Vegeta said before lunging toward Zarbon.

 

Zarbon was too quick, lifting his camera out of Vegeta’s reach, high above his head.  He used Vegeta’s forward momentum against him, punching Vegeta effortlessly in the gut.  Goku growled and lunges at Zarbon, but something hit him from behind, making his vision go black and his stomach turn.

 

“Dodoria!” Zarbon called to Goku’s assailant.  “Time to get out of here. I’ve got everything I need.”

 

Goku gasped as a heavy man barreled past him and down the hall, his shoulders reaching both walls.  The man wore a scowl on his hideous face and looked to be about Nappa’s age. He shoved Zarbon forward, ushering him away from Goku and Vegeta as if he were a bodyguard and Zarbon was the one being harassed by  _ them _ .

 

“H-hey!” Goku yelled when his senses finally came back to him and Dodoria brushed past a crowd of people, getting lost in the crowd.

 

“You let them get away!” Vegeta seized Goku by the collar, holding him face to face as he bared his teeth.  “That article will destroy  _ both _ our careers!”

 

“It’s just a gossip magazine,” Goku said, watching Dodoria and Zarbon leave through the front with no one to stop them.  “I’m sure no one will take it seriously.”

 

“But it is serious,” Vegeta growled, still in Goku’s face, shaking him, “because it’s real.  Don’t you understand, you moron? That article comes out, the paparazzi will be all over us. Dammit!”

 

Goku scratched his head, slightly concerned now.  “Are you concerned about people knowing about  _ us _ ?  Or just the fact that the paparazzi might catch you at something else?”

 

“There is no  _ us _ ,” Vegeta sneered, throwing Goku into the wall across the hallway.  “You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

 

Goku frowned.  Vegeta shook his head and stalked off, yelling for Nappa, leaving Goku confused.  He wasn’t sure which part of all this had Vegeta so angry. Again, Goku was feeling like it was something he did, though he had nothing to do with the paparazzi showing up immediately after they’d had mind blowing sex.  Whatever had Vegeta so angry, Goku hoped he’d get over it soon. 

 

He wanted to see Vegeta again.


End file.
